


the sun

by breakfastoversugar



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Grief/Mourning, HIV/AIDS Crisis, Jason-centric, me? projecting my experiences with trauma onto jason?, more common than u think, so. just like ignore this., sorry this isnt what i wanted to write rn but im going through it a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24818713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakfastoversugar/pseuds/breakfastoversugar
Summary: He remembers time moving in slow motion. He remembers sitting in the hallway for a long time. Or maybe a short time. Or maybe during a time when time didn’t really exist at all.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	the sun

**Author's Note:**

> hi. this is just me projecting some of my experiences abt deaths involved with loved ones onto jason! thats uh it ig. literally thats it.

The days after his Bar Mitzvah are a blur. The world is, suddenly, colorless. Days once punctuated by warm and inviting smiles and laughter are gone from memory when Jason lingered in the hallway of his father’s apartment. The wood flooring was cold against his feet, and the texture of the walls were rough against his hand. But he lingered, to feel them. To remind himself that he wasn’t a colorless blur.

He doesn’t remember it, the Bar Mitzvah. Not really. He remembers the drive, in passing. He remembers looking at the buildings of New York City. Jason remembers the smell of the hospital room. Sometimes he catches a whiff of it and it burns his nose. He remembers being at the hospital, vaguely. Mostly, though, he remembers getting there and waiting to go see him. Then the gap. Then Cordelia is clutching onto him outside of Whizzer’s hospital room and cooing to him. She’s whispering to him that everything is going to be alright, but he felt the wetness of her tears stick to his prayer shawl. That’s the thing Jason remembers most about that day, the uncomfortable wetness of Cordelia’s tears and his own stunned apathy.

He remembers time moving in slow motion. He remembers sitting in the hallway for a long time. Or maybe a short time. Or maybe during a time when time didn’t really exist or matter much at all. Trina was in and out of the room, fretting and crying, makeup running down her cheeks as she urged Mendel to … to do something.

Oh, yeah, Mendel was with him. Mendel was sitting with Jason, providing comfort in any way he could. That’s another thing Jason didn’t quite remember, not really. 

He didn’t remember the day of his Bar Mitzvah, but he remembered the first weekend he went back to see his dad like it happened to him yesterday. 

Trina had spent most of the day before, a Thursday, with him. Cleaning and cooking and making sure Marivn would be okay. As much as she squabbled with her ex-husband, she loved him. A platonic love now, but love nonetheless. Jason remembered getting there that Friday and the whole apartment feeling so … so empty and lifeless. Not much had changed. Little proof Whizzer existed was still everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. There was no warm greeting from the tall man as he bounded through the door. There were no excited baseball talks over dinner or a game or anything. There was no baseball at all, Jason remembers. There was a big game with his favorite team and there was no baseball at all. It hurt too much, reminded him too much of Whizzer. 

Marvin was a mess. He was grieving. He was on auto-pilot. He was there, physically, but emotionally so far away. Jason hadn’t felt that way around his father in years. But even then, it was never quite like that. There wasn’t a faraway look in Marvin’s eye, desolate and hopeless. There weren't outbursts of crying. Before, he didn’t keep it purposelessly cold in the apartment (so cold it makes Jason’s toes cold when he walked barefoot across the hardwood) so he could have an excuse to wear Whizzer’s extra clothes because they smelled like him and  _ oh god, what if he forgets how he smelled?  _

Jason remembers the lesbians drifting in and out that weekend, too. They came to check in several times that day. Jason remembers Charlotte carrying herself a little different. A little bit of pride knocked off her shoulders and a deep-seeded sadness that would stick with her grabbed her and took root. He remembers Cordelia, struggling to keep all three of them together as she sang whatever song she could think of from the kitchen. He remembers at one, Marvin’s breath hitched and he excused himself to cry loudly in the bathroom. He didn’t think Jason heard. Jason heard. He heard every last shuddering breath and sob from his father. 

Jason remembers innocuous details about that weekend, like the weather and the color of the sunset from Marvin’s living room windows. How all of Whizzer’s little beloved knick-knacks were just a little bit off, cleaned of dust but obviously not placed by Whizzer himself. He remembers exactly what he ate and that Marvin had two bottles of the same condiment in his fridge because he couldn’t keep track of what he had, not alone, not right then.

He remembers going home that Sunday night. Mendel was in the car, driving. He explained that Trina was just very, very tired and that she is so excited to see him at home. In retrospect, he should have known it hit Trina harder than she let on. She let Mendel drive, of course it did. Despite her initial resentment of Whizzer, they ended up having a lovely unique friendship. Finding a little nook for each other in their lives and hearts. Mendel too, although they only met at the baseball game. They both found each other to be lovely, agreeable men. The three of them talked shit about Marvin together.

Mendel, in the car, asked Jason how his weekend was with a smile that was too taut for his face and eyes too tired to be enthusiastic and spunky. And Jason remembers breaking down in the car. Sobbing and covering his face with his eyes and being embarrassed. He cried like a child. He had been bottling everything up since Whizzer had left, but he finally let it out. Mendel pulled over somewhere remote and let him cry for a while, saying nothing in particular. Nothing other than that it was okay to be angry, okay to cry. It was alright. Things weren’t alright then, but they would be again, somehow. Jason didn’t think so. He didn’t know how anything would ever be alright again without Whizzer. 

Mendel was affected, too. Professionally, he was very affected. He had to take leave from his job, longer than anyone else. Even Marvin. He was in no condition, mentally, to help people with their problems. He struggled to even reassure his own family in these trying times. Mendel would often just stare off, for hours. Then he would blink and make a comment and smile a fake, fake, fake smile and it would be clear he had no idea what time it was or how long he was staring off for.

The weirdest experience was going back to school. Jason’s whole life had been turned upside-down. Turned and flipped on its head. But when he went back to school, everything was normal. That felt wrong. Jason didn’t understand why there wasn’t more outrage. Jason didn’t understand how everyone could just go on with their lives when Jason’s would never, ever be the same. The chapter of his life with Whizzer had been closed and burned, and Jason felt he had no ink to start another. But the kids around him, running and bitching and being normal middle-schoolers were fine. Their pages were untouched and unmarred by Jason’s family tragedy. And Jason couldn’t talk about it. It would be a big downer, first of all, and he would be seen as that weird depressed kid who had someone die at his Bar Mitzvah. Secondly, what would he say? That his father’s boyfriend died? There was no way he could say that to middle-schoolers and expect sympathy and not mockery, not something to vehemently disrespectful that it makes him want to cry thinking about their words. 

Life continued in blurs afterward, punctuated by only the traumatic. Like Marvin’s particularly bad days, or when he came around the corner of Marvin’s apartment one day and found Charlotte sobbing to Marvin apologizing and saying that she should have done more. There was nothing more she could have done, Marvin had reminded her that night. There was nothing anyone could have done. If there was something, you could bet that Charlotte would move hell and earth to do it. Life continues like the time Mendel came home from his first day back at work and just broke down at the table, empathy spent and emotions strung high. Like the time he mentioned to Cordelia about her tears on his prayer shawl and her face paled and she stood so quickly he thought she was going to be sick. Like the time Trina has passed out on the ground because she had no appetite and hadn’t eaten in days but didn’t stop working out because that would make things okay.

Eventually, life slowed down. Days took shape again. They began healing, they were never quite the same, and the healing process was slow, but it began. For most of them. Marvin never really recovered, but he … he wasn’t around for much longer after Whizzer. 

In contrast to his Bar Mitzvah, Jason remembers every detail about the day his father died. He remembers the day of the week, the weather outside, he remembers talking to his friend about chess before being pulled out of school because Marvin didn’t have much time left and he needed to say goodbye to his dad while he still could. He remembers Trina and Mendel frantically trying to find somewhere to park. He remembers the exact parking spot. All the little details gripped him and refused to let go. It made him feel bad for not remembering Whizzer’s. It was distressing, sometimes, the thought that he could ever forget about that day. 

Marvin’s death was hard, but in a different way. He remembers the five people that were left in their band having to pack up Marvin’s (and Whizzer’s, Marvin never moved his things) belongings. He ended up keeping a lot of it, little mementos of his fathers. Trina worried, at first, but Mendel encouraged it. Said it would be good for healing. It was, Jason likes having physical reminders that they were here. The lesbians moved not long after, they couldn’t stay in a place where they knew right next door their closest friends in the world should be. But it was a place they would never and could never return to.

Jason’s afraid that he won’t remember them, soon. Like everything about them might fade from his memory. Those fears are real and tangible. He thinks he is forgetting how Whizzer’s voice sounds. 

But feelings, Jason remembers feelings. He remembers how feelings with Marvin, before Whizzer, weren’t good. The temperature would drop when he walked into the room and a stale air would pass in and the feeling of darkness, loneliness, and betrayal punctuated Jason’s chest as he would play chess in a corner. Whizzer was like the sun, bringing in the light and warming him. He trusted Whizzer, loved Whizzer. Whizzer was his closest friend, even back during those first nine or ten months. That time was a very angry time for then all, but Jason felt safe with Whizzer. Then Whizzer was gone, and he took most of the sun with him. The sunlight he had brought didn’t fade, though, it radiated through his life and affected everything it touched. Marvin most importantly. If Whizzer was the sun, Marvin became a heat lamp. He did his best for his son. He put his own interests aside for his sake. Jason marks those days with a distant feeling of something missing. Then Whizzer came back, and he brought the sun back. More brilliant and colorful than before. Those days were happy days, perfect days. His Bar Mitzvah was coming up, but other than that, his life was really, really good.

Now, the days are dull. Not colorless, but muted. Everything has changed, and there are still days where nothing feels alright. But grief is normal and step one to getting better. Jason didn’t think he would ever really be over it, but he had to start somewhere. Jason will go through his life, muted and dull and blob-ish in shape and await the day a new person with an aura like the sun brings back warmth and color.

**Author's Note:**

> anyways lets pretend like this didnt happen ! ill be back on my usual not vent writing soon.


End file.
